Present
by bikiniwax
Summary: Balalaika and Revy exchange Christmas gifts.


Uh... surprise? merry christmas, and happy holidays. just somethin quick i whipped up- hope ya'll enjoy! and, uh, excuse the cringy title

disclaimed

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She remembers Christmas as huge, exciting celebrations in green and red. Their staircases would be wrapped in tinsel and the tall, broad tree that made several of her relative's faces puffy would shine gold. She'd scramble to zip up her itchy red dress, pull on her shoes that covered her blistered left heel and run down the stairs, being mindful of still appearing ladylike. Her uncle and his friends, all decorated in medals and grey suits, would smile and grin behind champagne or vodka.

Looking back on it now, Balalaika mused, Christmas is a children's holiday. Sure, she'd always knew Santa never existed- but presents where always out of this world in young Sofiya's eyes. Under the tree would lie dolls, a train set, and even a violin (with the subtle pressure of her grandfather wanting her to practice and _get good_ at it).

Celebrating in Afghanistan was nigh-impossible, how where they to feel such childlike joy when they were gunning down said kids? The troops would enjoy a small drink of vodka, shoulders tight in the dry desert air. Balalaika and her troops still did that, stoically hiding the fact none of their biological families wanted to be with them.

Now, the holiday was only known through somehow more people in Roanapour getting drunk and trashing cars. There would still be the element of gift giving, although that was more in the spirit of bullets.

And now that Revy was staring at her, cheeks reddened by rum and looking up through her eyelashes, pretending to be scuffing her decrepit boots along the carpet- Balalaika couldn't help but imagine the gunwoman's childhood Christmas. Maybe a dingy apartment with a back of the hand for a present? A socking instead of a stocking? The blonde felt her mouth relax.

A part of her does want to hit Revy so hard her teeth fall out of her open mouth, or kick her in the shin so hard it glimmers red and white like a candy cane. Instead, her mouth travels down her tanned throat, biting so hard the blood vessels pop around her canines. Her nails sink into her waist, sliding into her shorts and feeling the hard edge of Revy's hipbone.

Revy moans and one of her hands palm Balalaika's breasts, the other her ass. Wrapping one leg around her hip she swears when Balalaika furiously rubs her dripping cunt, unpracticed and too harsh. The nail dips into the folds slightly and she shrieks. Balalaika contemplates on how this is probably all Revy knows, nothing gentle, no soul accepting love. Nothing like how she was taught when she was young. The man and woman standing at the altar, the peck on the lips, the smiling as they wake from their love nest.

Revy was utterly alone in her juvenile denial of feelings and that just made Balalaika want to fuck her more.

Fast forward fifteen minutes later and Revy is up between her legs, licking like a starving puppy, experimenting what makes Balalaika hiss in Russian. Revy feels the scar tissue graze her cheeks and shoulders as the thighs tighten around her. She nips her clit and grins into it when a shudder is felt through her mouth. The flesh around her feels soft, though hardened by muscle. Before she lapped up the blonde's pussy she laid hickey's all around the patch of hair, as if leaving reminders of what she'd done.

Balalaika has one hand in her hair, another fighting to keep her pencil skirt up- the back threatens to tear at such stress. Bangs mussed across her forehead, she bites her lip when she comes for the second time. The wave of an orgasm relaxes her taut body, the back of her skull meeting the peeling wallpaper with a dull thud.

Revy wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she sits back on her heels. She looks up again, brown eyes hard and at the same time painfully needy, begging for any slice of appreciation Balalaika has to offer.

Bringing the Chinese woman up, Balalaika slips her tongue into her willing mouth, tasting herself while she cups Revy's jaw in both hands. She feels down to her throat, squeezing slightly. The kiss becomes more demanding, more desperate when Revy gropes Balalaika's shoulders, moaning loudly before being slapped to quiet down.

"F-Fuck-" Revy wheezes as they pull away, unsteadily regaining her balance. She doesn't step away; standing informally close to the Russian's panting frame. Balalaika lets her head rest on the wall, closing her eyes and allowing a post-coitus sigh to pass through her lips.

"Thanks, Two Hands." Even though her eyes are closed, Balalaika can feel the glimmer of satisfaction ripple through Revy's body.

"There's only one thing you have in mind when you ask for me to walk my ass up here alone, Sis." Revy mutters, licking the corners of her lips.

"Have a nice Christmas, Rebecca." Balalaika mutters, opening her eyes and looking at the mussed hair that somehow framed Revy's sunburned cheeks. Her hand slowly stroked over her right ear, gently pulling back the hair from her eyes. The Russian almost wants to give a relaxed smile; however the sentiment never reaches her lips.

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quick, silly little oneshot. what can i say? there might be some mistakes and ill fix em as soon as i wake up in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat, and realise i spelled "bringing" as "binging". inspired by lady gaga's christmas tree.


End file.
